


take a chance on me

by mthslh



Category: Clone High
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, au where no prom, cleo is a Good Person, it's the winter prom anyway who'd miss it, she's just insecure, technically underage? but it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mthslh/pseuds/mthslh
Summary: Slowly, Cleopatra grows on Joan.
Relationships: Cleopatra/Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 108





	take a chance on me

Cleopatra is not such a bad roommate.

Mrs. Smith's sobered up some, and her affinity for Toots has morphed into gracious and innocent care for the old man. He's probably not best fit to raise a teenage girl, if everyone's being honest, and besides, Mrs. Smith likes having something to do.

They pool their finances and move into a bigger house, Cleo and Joan in seperate bedrooms. Cleo's got plants and a few posters and a vanity, grown out of the hot pink she chose at age nine, and Joan's picked up guitar and she has her CDs strewn around and somehow they respect one another and neither one intrudes on the other. With both of them in and out with different friend groups, it's how Joan has always imagined college to be, although hopefully Toots won't follow her to Clone U.

And Cleo's nice to her.

She knocks on Joan's door asking for help one day. Mrs. Smith took Toots to the Grassy Knoll for breakfast as a change of pace, trusting the girls with cereal, but Cleo took it upon herself to make _ful medames_. She needs help heating up the bread while she watches the stew, though, so Joan is quickly enlisted.

"It's an old Egyptian dish," Cleo explains. "I'm exploring my culture, or something."

Joan understands, or rather, she understands part of it. Cleo and Mrs. Smith were a lot alike, but her mother was a high-class American white woman, and Cleopatra the original was decidedly not. Like herself and Toots, Joan thinks.

"I wonder," Cleo says, when Joan decides to help with the dishes, "how much like our clone-mothers we really are. Abe and Jack and both Maries know who they are. Who they were. You and I," she ponders, looking into Joan's eyes, "we're just left to wonder."

Joan looks away.

The next day, she bails on hanging out with Vincent and JFK, instead going to the library. She checks out a book entitled "The Life and Times of Cleopatra," and cracks it open at one of the kiddie tables.

She learns a few things about Cleopatra that just kind of... click. She was a genius, a strategic and academic genius. She was beautiful, that Joan already knew, and she was an expert on getting men to do what she wanted. Joan thinks of the last nightmare of a student body election, and wonders how much of it truly came natural to Cleo.

She should be jealous, but it makes her admire the other girl. She's just a girl, sure, just like Joan is not quite Joan of Arc herself, but she has so much power in her blood.

Joan catches herself as she traces a finger over an artist's rendition of Cleopatra. It's not quite right, but she still imagines Cleo in that headdress and outfit for a split second before putting the book in the drop-off bin, because how could she bring it home?

She thinks of Cleo's nose, her lips, and then snaps out of her own mind, forcing herself to think about physics homework on the short walk home.

They stay up too late re-watching Clueless one night. They've popped popcorn and made brownies and are sitting in comfortable silence while the credits roll, when Cleo pipes up.

"Have you ever done something you think Joan of Arc would hate you for?"

"I am Joan of Arc."

"You know what I mean," she sighs.

"I mean... I haven't even heard the voices yet, Cleo, and I'm not a good Catholic girl. I'm a lesbian, for Christ's sake."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"No, not much. Times change, you know? I can't force myself to be straight or Catholic or insane. Things happen as they're meant to."

"Oh." Cleo pauses.

"Why do you ask?"

"...I'm bisexual."

Joan breathes out of her nose. "That's all?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh. I thought maybe you killed someone."

Cleo throws her head back and laughs, and it's the prettiest sight Joan has ever seen. "No, I don't think the first Cleopatra would be disappointed in that."

Joan grabs the remote and turns the TV off before heading up to bed.

Soon, Joan's hair goes from magenta to a light pink, and her roots show a stark brown. She waits until everyone's out of the house before getting to work on the bleach in the bathroom, and carefully rinses and dries her hair before the pink dye.

The front door opens and closes, and she hears the clomp-clomp-clomp of Cleo's shoes. The bathroom door is open, and Cleo peers in.

"You need some help?"

"I could use some, yeah," she chokes out. "Your hands might get stained."

"Who cares?" Cleo laughs, tying her own hair back. Joan notices the ripple of muscle underneath the softness of her arms, and then looks away, embarrassed. 

"Ends first, then roots," Joan explains. "The roots are warmer."

They make eye contact in the mirror as Cleo works on the ends. Joan snaps her eyes away, and Cleo pretends she doesn't notice. Cleo has longer nails than Joan, with the gentle, dainty hands of a hairdresser. Honestly, it's making her sleepy.

"You're good at this," Joan murmurs.

"You look pretty like this," Cleo responds.

Joan blinks, eyes wide open again. "What?"

"What?"

"Oh, I-"

Cleo flashes a sweet but tired smile. "I'm sick of playing games, Joan. I'm sick of acting the way we were with Abe. Hell, it wasn't even about Abe. It was about you. Turn around, it's time to rinse."

Joan obliges, but she's still confused. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but I think... I've got a huge crush on you, Joan." Cleo stands up as the water runs through Joan's hair, the sink turning pink from the water.

"Oh my God." She sits up, water trailing onto the towel around her body. "Oh my God."

"I'm sorry, did I ruin it? Oh, Joan, I'm-"

Joan reaches her arms out around Cleo's neck and kisses her sweetly on her cheek. "No, Cleo." She pulls back and looks into Cleopatra's eyes. "No, you didn't ruin anything."

Cleo smiles wide, the way she only does when she's comfortable, lips pulled back into a toothy grin, blush across her clear cheeks. "Good."

"Good."

**Author's Note:**

> Ful medames are tasty. Try it!
> 
> Anyway I feel like this fandom is really lacking in Cloan (ha) content, so here we are! I appreciate comments, a whole lot.  
> Title stolen from ABBA, of course.


End file.
